


Amnesia

by FlyAwayChild



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesia by 5 Seconds of Summer, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Bad Gally, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, End of the World, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Good Gally, Goodbyes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memories, Paradise, Recovered Memories, References to Depression, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Temporary Amnesia, The Flare, The Glade, WICKED | WCKD (World In Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department), WICKED | WCKD Is Good, WICKED | WCKD Is Not Good, Worried Minho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-12 06:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15989495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyAwayChild/pseuds/FlyAwayChild
Summary: Slowly they started to remember, after a month in paradise, and safety.First the little things came back, a few song lyrics here and there or their favorite color or how they used to dress, small things that meant the world to them.Till it was bigger things, Till it was their parents and their siblings and WICKED and big things that make them wake them up screaming at night. It felt like it was happening slowly.For Thomas it was all to fast, to soon and he couldn't help but think of the Glade, the only time in his life that he could remember ever being truly good. More often then not he wished he could go back to when things had been as simple as wake up, run the maze, map it, sleep. For months on end, through days when they thought that they wouldn't make it, through days that Alby and Newt would argue none stop, through days when everything just seemed to be going wrong.Now he wished he could wake up with amnesia.





	Amnesia

The first time Thomas had remembered something before the maze without the help of griever venom or incredibly hard knocks to the head followed by getting gassed in the middle of a dessert he was eating inner. They were all gathered together by the fire to eat, everyone they had saved, mostly kids that still woke up scream some nights, even if they had been safe for months, Thomas couldn't blame them.

_He still had nightmares too most nights_

He had finished his dinner and was just talking really, enjoying the company and peace he found in Minho, Frypan and Gally, just sitting, enjoying the company and comfort of the fire warming his front and the company of his friends, Minho sitting bedside him. The sat shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. His day had been long and taxing and he just wanted to sleep for a week. Vince had insisted that he and Minho learned archery, saying that their bullets wouldn't last forever and that they would have to be able to hunt and defend themselves somehow, wanting them to be able to survive because he knew he wouldn't be around forever to take care of them. He knew that he was skilled when it came to fighting but he doubted that that would matter unless he met a bear that would be willing to duke it out, he thought it was a pretty solid idea till an hour into the lesson.

Some were better shots then others and some picked it up naturally while others thought it was fun and gave it their best shot to a least be decent and have a good time. Thomas was one of the better shots when compared to Minho and Gally. Gally's refused to give up till vince made him stop and have Sonya clean up his bloody fingers and Minho had a nasty bruise in 5 different shades of purple on the inside of his forearm. Close to the second hour his own shot started to go wide as muscles he wasn't even aware of started to ache and by the third hour his fingers were numb and his right arm was turning an impressive bluish purple in the spots that he wasn't paying attention and managed to let the string brush his skin giving him a bruise to rival minho's, it made him wonder how Alby had been so good at the sport.

He was ready to call it a night and didn't fancy falling asleep on the ground again, he knew Minho would join him in the tent soon enough so he slowly hefted himself onto his feet, his body protesting the movement in the form of aching muscles and a sharp pain in his side. He didn't remember much after watching Teresa fall to her death but from what the others told him the bullet had lodged itself in his abdomen and had been far to close to his stomach to be anything but lucky. They managed to get the bullet out and obviously he lived but healing was slow, he could blame it on the fact that he could never stay idle and was constantly tearing out stitches to the point where both he and Minho could fix it themselves without needing Sonya to supervise. He thought it was healing well, the skin was still tender and hurt like all hell when he got bumped or jabbed but the edges of it where pink and Sonya said that he was healing faster than most people, he had to hold back his retort about not being most people.

He turned slightly to say goodnight to the others when a sharp hot pain assaulted him making him double over, much to his body's displeasure, and clutch his head as images...memories flooded through his head. Flash after flash of working for WICKED, with WICKED. Of being one of the immunes all gathered in a room, talking and getting to know each other, bonding. Flashes of Teresa and Gally getting along, of Newt and Alby arguing over trivial things. whispers of melodies and quotes and past teachings flooded him, his third grade teacher, what his mother did for work, his favorite food, all to much at once and giving him a migraine so bad it nearly made him want to simply not remember any of it at all, _It was a blessing to remember anything while in the maze ___

_Now it seemed like a curse_

He couldn't remember things like his birthday or if his name was actually Thomas or what his family looked like or their names or the real names of his friends and it was quiet cruel if he thought about it. A tease of his memories, dangling at the edge of his mind, just out of his reach

 _I drove by all the places we used to hang out getting wasted_  
_I thought about our last kiss, how it felt the way you tasted_  
_And even though your friends tell me you're doing fine_  
_Are you somewhere feeling lonely even though he's right beside you?_  
_When he says those words that hurt you, do you read the ones I wrote you?_  
_Sometimes I start to wonder, was it just a lie?_  
_If what we had was real, how could you be fine?_  
_'Cause I'm not fine at all  
_

____

He knew that despite Minho always worrying about him and everyone telling him that the others, Chuck, Winston, Alby, Mary, Newt... telling him that they were all in a better place and happier, no longer dealing with all the crap that haunted them...things like the flare that he couldn't think onit to long. He wished that he could say that he was happy for them but honestly he hated not being able to see Newt every day, not hang out with certain little 12 year old with a mop of curly hair, learning the basics of first aid from Clint and Jeff, or even how to dig up weeds with with Zart in the gardens. H wished things could go back to normal, back in the Maze before anyone had lost their lives because of him, at least....not as many lives anyway

 _I remember the day you told me you were leaving_  
_I remember the make-up running down your face_  
_And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them_  
_Like every single wish we ever made _  
__

He hated the days he woke up with a cold side, Minho on his left, his head pillowed on the older Asian boy's shoulder while his own right side was chilled, missing the warmth that a certain strawberry blond used to provide. Sometimes he fell asleep with Minho's chest pressed up against his back with a muscular arm slung over his waist and the other pillowed under Thomas's head and that was enough to keep the coldness at bay but he knew that Minho often felt the same. The double hammock they shared feeling far to small compared to the corner of the deadhead they occupied back in the Glade or the snuggled up piles they slept in while in the Scorch

"Thomas what are you seeing, THOMAS!" Minho's voice was fuzzy and hard to focus on but he managed, pulling himself out of his memory induced haze, he reached out, a to cold hand wrapping Minho's right bicep, fingers clenched in the red fabric of his jacket, the jacket that had once been Newt's.

"I'm...I'm okay. just...."He shook his head, feeling fuzzy, like he had after he had drank one of Gally's 'special' drinks back in the Maze "I'm Fine"

"Your remembering, like the others, aren't you" He nearly jumped at the sound of Vince's soft voice, both soothing and concerning at the same time.

"Yea....I think i am..."He trailed off, voice rough and so quiet it was almost inaudible.

 _I wish that I could wake up with amnesia_  
_And forget about the stupid little things_  
_Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you_  
_And the memories I never can escape_  
_'Cause I'm not fine at all  
_

"I'm gonna go and get some sleep, i'll be fine by morning" His voice was still quiet but not as weak and rough as it had been earlier. Vince's question knocked him even more off kilter then he already was. He didn't want to remember, not when he was just getting used to the idea of never remembering anything before the Maze besides the few small things he had remembered by force 

"Want me to go with you" Minho's brows were furrowed the way they did when ever he was concerned or worried. He wore that look a lot more often now after WICKED and become a leader of dozens of people in the safe haven. Vince, Minho, Frypan, Gally and Brenda had quickly become the ones that everyone went to with their problems, seeing them as the leaders. Often going to Minho, Frypan or Gally when they needed physical help and going to Brenda and Vince and surprisingly enough Thomas for anything that was more emotional even though Thomas was so emotionally constipated that he often forgot how badly till someone pointed it 

_The pictures that you sent me they're still living in my phone_  
_I'll admit I like to see them, I'll admit I feel alone_  
_And all my friends keep asking why I'm not around_  
_It hurts to know you're happy, yeah, it hurts that you've moved on_  
_It's hard to hear your name when I haven't seen you in so long  
_

Slowly he pulled away from his...lover? Boyfriend? He was never good with labels and after the Maze, the Scorch...Minho's time at WICKED, after everything they had gone through, it felt like such ordinary words couldn't properly describe what he had with the older boy. Couldn't describe any of what they went through or what they achieved. None the less he shook his head in a bad attempt to clear it before leveling his gaze to the older teen "No...i'm okay i'll see you later"

 _It's like we never happened, was it just a lie?_  
_If what we had was real, how could you be fine?_  
_'Cause I'm not fine at all_  


He couldn't say he was happy about Newt being in a better place like everyone told him he should be. He was sad and guilty that he was so so close to saving the strawberry blond. He knew he could turn into Lawrence if he kept on the way he was, holding onto his anger and regret, letting it grow and grow till it got to the point where he was desperate in his rage and desire for revenge to the point where he was willing to blow up entire cities in his madness, taking anything and anyone down with him. But it felt like anger was better then guilt, and tears, was better then grief. But the grief came anyway, the grief and guilt and tears and anger all rooted itself into his heart and refused to go away. It wasn't bad when Minho and the others were around but when he was alone it was at the forefront of his mind, making him notice it and staying till he felt like clawing his heart out of his chest to get the feelings to leave.

Gently he shook off Minho's hands and turned on his heel and started walking, ignoring the looks cast his way and the holes boring into his back as he stumbled along, he did his best not to falter, to walk in a straight line till he was out of sight but he knew he failed miserably. He self consciously shoved is hands into the pockets of his pants as he made his way back to the tent he shared with a few of the other boys. It was Minho, Frypan, Gally, and two kids that had been held at WICKED when they had been rescuing Minho and the others, their names were Stephen and Justin. Both were great kids that had to much responsibility at a two young age and it made Thomas hurt to think of what they were put through

 _I remember the day you told me you were leaving_  
_I remember the make-up running down your face_  
_And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them_  
_Like every single wish we ever made  
_

Getting back to the large tent he went to the double hammock he shared with Minho and laid down carefully as to not flip the whole thing and fall. The last time he did that he tore out stitches and started bleeding, cause everyone in the room to freak out even though he was fine and he hadn't bled all that much, Minho had insisted on waking up Sonya and by default Aris and Harriet, Sonya's tent mates. Once he was settled he stared up at the roof of the tent, trying his hardest not to remember because despite how much he had wanted remember when he first woke up in the box, covered in sweat and grime and no clue who he was or what he was doing there or where he was he now loathed remembering. He loathed that it happened now of all times, when he had no use for the memories and the nightmares that would certainly come tumbling with them.

 _I wish that I could wake up with amnesia_  
_And forget about the stupid little things_  
_Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you_  
_And the memories I never can escape  
_

The flap of the tent fluttered in the breeze causing red and orange light to flash through the tent, causing his mind to be filled with the memories from the nights that they would all sit and watch the sun drop behind the west wall of the Glade, the sky an orange-ish pink color, Minho and Thomas would often be wrestling playfully and laughing, Newt's laugh mixing with theirs as he laughed at their childishness, Teresa and Zart watching fondly while Winston, Gally and Ben chatted. Chuck would be quietly sitting in the grass, watching in awe as the sun disappeared, he never quite figured out the pre-teens fascination with the stars and the moon and sun but they had all found it endearing. Alby was always somewhere, rarely ever stopping to relax and just enjoy himself.

He remembered Alby being one of the first people awake and one of the last people to go to sleep way back when they had been in the Maze....when the 18 year old had been alive. He remembered that Alby had always been like that, remembered that years ago, before the Maze, that Alby was always the first one to wake in the morning and the last to lay his head down at night, always making sure that everyone else was okay and taking care of before he went to sleep on his own cot that had been issued to him by WICKED

Even before the Maze he was the caring leader

 _If today I woke up with you right beside me_  
_Like all of this was just some twisted dream  
_

He wished that it was all a nightmare, that he was dreaming and that none of it happened. That the flare never took Newt away...he couldn't bring himself to say that he regretted the Maze, or that he regretted turning on WICKED because then he never would have met the Newt that he once knew, that he loved with everything he could give. He and Minho would never take the blond for granted like they had before. They'd do whatever the blond asked of them without complaining, its no like the blond had ever steered them wrong before, he regretted the times he whined about something Newt had asked him to do.

_I'd hold you closer than I ever did before_  
  


_And you'd never slip away_  
_And you'd never hear me say  
_

He would cuddle him more and tell him how much he loved him, like what he and Minho did now, never leave each other for longer then an hour or so, holding each close at night and doing anything that the other asked of them. He could almost guarantee that Minho would be the first to enter the tent, he gave the older teen at least another 10 or 20 minutes before he came running 

_I remember the day you told me you were leaving_  
_remember the make-up running down your face_  
_And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them_  
_Like every single wish we ever made_  
_I wish that I could wake up with amnesia_  
_And forget about the stupid little things_  


God he missed them all. He missed Teresa and Chuck and Alby and Winston and Newt and Clint and Jeff and Zart and Ben and all the other boys he had grown close to over the course of the months he had spent with them in the Maze. He missed the wake up in the mornings and the teasing and Frypans cooking and the intense heat and the running and the bone tired feeling that settled in his chest at the end of everyday.

He missed the way things were before

 _Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you_  
_And the memories I never can escape_  


He couldn't get it out of his head, seeing Teresa fall as the city burned, Chuck gasping for breath and bleeding under his hands, the cold detached and unseeing look in his eyes as his chest stopped moving. Alby running head first into the griever hoard in sacrifice. He still couldn't tell if it was because Alby had loved them enough to want to give them the chance to escape and live, even if he didn't know if his sacrifice would work or if he did it because he couldn't bare to return to the destroyed world that he had come to remember after he had been stung.....if he was honest he didn't want to know the answer to the loaded question.

He wished he could go back. Back to when he was still learning his way around and the only death on his hands was Ben's. He knew it was irrational to place so much weight on his shoulders but he couldn't help it. He knew that the flare wasn't his fault but the Maze, dragging his friends into the Scorch, it all had consequences that his loved ones had unfairly paid for and it was all because of him, he had made the maze, worked with WICKED, hadn't thought things through

 _'Cause I'm not fine at all_  
_No, I'm really not fine at all_  


His eyes slowly started drifting shut without his permission, watering at the edges as he fought back the tears that often came with his inner turmoil. Maybe in the morning he would wake in the Glade, maybe....just maybe he really was dreaming.

Just maybe...

_Tell me this is just a dream_  
_'Cause I'm really not fine at all_


End file.
